Feather of the Flock
by Ariels Lament
Summary: Because, really, no one even knew what it did anyway... Meanwhile, Penelo frets over her sanity.


_**A/N: In which I do none of the things I wrote on my bio I was going to do and, instead, get sucked into another fandom! :P **_

_**This was supposed to be a short and silly piece. While the 'short' bit kind of walked off the edge of the map here, I'm hoping the humor made it through all right. I'm kind of sick of looking at this thing now, though, so with luck, all the mistakes I fixed before uploading have stayed gone and no new ones appeared. But I'm not holding my breath, so feel free to point anything out that's glaringly annoying. **_

_**Also, forgive the occasional 80-some odd word sentence. I have this notion that ridiculously long sentences are funny. And sometimes they are. I suppose I should say there are some vaguely mentioned spoilers for the middle third of the game and on up. There's some dialogue from the game in here, as well, some of which I changed up a bit just to fit in here better...**_

_**In any case...enjoy!  
**_

__.

* * *

**Feather**** of the Flock**

* * *

.

Penelo wasn't a huge fan of Archades, the never ending sport of information exchange, on which every hoity-toity citizen gambled their fortunes every second of every day. She wondered how anyone managed to relax against such high stakes, so determined as they were to raise them ever higher still in order to upstage their peers. It certainly explained the stiff, unpersonable demeanors of the higher gentry. Granted, plenty of them had seemed nice enough—even a few rags to riches tales imparted upon the ragtag group she had, impossibly, become a part of—but one could never truly tell if such generous countenances were sincere or merely the well-practiced façade behind which a viper lay coiled, ready to strike out and make it rich(er?) with whatever scraps of seemingly unimportant information that had presented itself this time around.

It was disconcerting, Penelo thought, the lack of trust that could be put in another fellow here, what with the amount of pride and satisfaction that came from looking down on others. Jules' words to Vaan rang out clear as a chime in the back of her mind: _"Why, if they're helping you out, it must mean they're superior. Understand, boy?"_

That's what life was here. Striving to not only keep up with, but to surpass one's peers. It was nothing like Rabanastre at all. In hers and Vaan's home, people more often than not helped others for the sake of helping others because they could, and they did so with the understanding that anyone else who was able would do the same for them if that time came. Not that everyone shared in this generosity, to be sure; in these tough times fewer and fewer people could afford to do much without going under themselves, but for the most part, help could be found somewhere, even if only in the form of a stern bangaa who barely managed to scrape by himself with his own little sundries shop.

The thought of Migelo and his kindness and worry gripped the young girl's heart and made her even more homesick than she already was. She hated it here. She despised this pointless and uncaring way of life. She wanted to leave. Even so, she might have been able to stand it here a bit longer had she not seen just how far the corruption went. But now, as she stood in the midst of stunned silence and disbelieving stares, the young orphan hugged the newly acquired weapon to her chest and swallowed, wanting nothing more than to go back home to Rabanastre.

.

* * *

.

It all started with a mark—the Gil Snapper—when soaked and miserable and in desperate need of the reward money, the group had finally been able to gather enough driftwood to partially dam up a section of the wetlands needed to cross over into the obscure slab of land said beast was rumored to lurk. The tides were dangerously swift. The strain of water over the slippery logs left the makeshift bridge to appear perilous at the best of times, thus requiring the use of a float spell to make one light enough to have even the slightest chance of making it to the other side at all. However, it was a spell none had yet been able to afford the gil to purchase, much less the time to learn, and their motes were too few in number for each person to be affected both ways across. After much argument—soley on Ashe's part at the indignity of being carried across like some helpless damsel by the former knight against whom she still garnered trust issues—they prepared to make their way. For, in the end, the wind and rain were such that even the soggy princess was able to cast aside her pride and suspicions and suffer through.

Fran and Balthier took the lead without pause, as they were oft wont to do. Their partnership was something to be admired and befuddled by. They did what they needed to do, and they did it together despite both being proud and independent beings. There was not so much as even a hint of hesitance or awkwardness when the viera wrapped a long, thin arm around the younger pirate's neck, and he scooped one of his own beneath her knees in response. He tested out the woodwork with one foot, first ensuring that the spell had taken correctly and that the twisted brambles below would hold under his significantly lightened state. Obviously satisfied with its strength, he threw out his other foot as well.

"Watch your step," he cautioned over his shoulder. "Even the spell won't do to save you if you trip."

Vaan gulped noticeable and swept Penelo a nervous glance. Had she been less miserable, she might have been dispirited by her best friend's atypical show of unconfidence. Withal, as it were, she was tired and hungry and cold and wet and wanted nothing more than to get this thing over with so that life could resume as normal. (Normal being Ashe's suicidal quest for nethicite that could be used to restore Dalmasca to its former glory by means that the young orphan hadn't really been able to grasp. But she didn't think that Ashe truly understood it either, so she didn't feel completely ignorant in this regard.) So when Vaan outstretched his arms to her in an awkward imitation of Balthier's and Fran's mode of transport, the pigtailed teen cocked a brow at him. It was the absolute most amusement she could muster at the time. Then she rushed up and pounced on his back, very nearly sending them both sprawled into the sinking mud beneath their feet. Somehow, likely thanks to the effects of the mote, he managed to keep his footing and catch her legs before she slid off of him and into the quagmire below.

As a dancer, she had to give Vaan credit, though. He navigated over the bits of bobbing wood and tangled branches with an impeccable balance she was fairly certain had nothing to do with the spell. Meanwhile, Basch and Ashe were still on ground, demonstrating the precise amount of uncertainty and gracelessness that the two pirates before had lacked. It was an almost painful thing to watch, the way the pair sized each other up, as if unsure of the most appropriate course of action to take, circumstances notwithstanding. Eventually, the relentless volley of precipitation dissolved the princess' resolve once more, and she conceded, at long last, to close the gap between them in the form of her hand on his shoulder. Before Penelo could see what happened after that, however, Vann had reached the other bank and made quick to shake her many-limbed grasp off of him, much like a chocobo might do an overzealous rider.

The rain had settled to a light drizzle by the time the remaining party members set foot on the new area. The possibility of it giving up altogether brightened the girl's mood considerably, but as luck would have it, mere steps into the Tracks of the Beast, the seeq who had approached them in the clan hall joined them in on the hunt and informed them that the beast had yet to appear. Not only that, but it was said the great snapper preferred the torrential rain and would not appear lest lightning streaked across the sky. Disheartened and shivering, Penelo didn't even bother to ask Bansat how he had made it here before they had and without the remnants of any visible trail. If anyone else had wondered the same, they hadn't cared enough to ask either. Tempers were already running at an all-time high, so it was probably for the best. With their newfound rival turned companion, they set out for any kind of alcove or structure that might serve as a shelter while they awaited the mystical beast.

That was when Penelo found it, hidden away and packaged such that it _had_ to be valuable or at least helpful in some way.

"It's a feather," Vaan voiced unhelpfully.

"Cockatrice, by the looks of it," Basch remarked with a shrug, as he handed it back to its finder.

Penelo frowned down at it. "What do you think it does? If anything…"

But not even Fran had any wisdom or theories to impart amongst the group.

"We can just sell it," Vaan suggested, scanning the waterlogged horizon with his arms stretched out behind his head. "We sell feathers all the time at the bizarre."

"Yes, but not cockatrice," came Balthier's testy reply. "They're not exactly raised for their plumage last I checked. And I doubt a single one will fetch so pretty a sum at market."

But Penelo had been certain that the feather had some type of redeeming quality, so she tucked it away in her pack. "Nanau and Roaklo might know something about it," she insisted to no one in particular. "Their tribe raises them after all."

Even as she said it, she knew that nobody really cared what happened to the feather. A certain royal might have even snapped so at her had a bolt of lightning not alighted the sky at that very moment, silhouetting a massive form in the distance.

When all was said and done, she never did get to ask their partitioners about the thing. For when they returned with the spirit-filled urn, the duo was gone with naught but a note left in their stead. _Find us during the Dry,_ was the basic gist of it. _We'll give you your reward then._

If memory served Penelo correctly, the Dry was a good two some odd months away.

The raging storm overhead might not have been able to hold a candle to the thunderous swears and curses that had erupted from their leading man at the news, but the equally vehement profanities spewing forth from Dalmasca's fair princess could have razed an entire village to the ground.

Penelo was fairly certain she knew just which village ought to fear her.

.

* * *

.

The months came and went, and both urn and feather were left forgotten in Penelo's pack. Their ongoing journey carried them ever northward, and the expanse of back and forth desert-rainforest plains to the south was hardly spared a second thought. Penelo rather suspected that it was more avoided than forgotten, as Balthier tended to ignore all marks coming from the region after their mishap with the reward-that-was-desperately-needed-but-forced-to-be-waited-for. Also his eye would twitch and his jaw clench so forcefully that _her_ teeth hurt whenever even the vaguest mention of Giza was made in his presence. It probably wasn't a coincidence that any business the group had south of the plains was made via teleport stones either. So when she came across both items in her pack on the southern bank of Nebra, while digging for the shells she and Vaan had collected along the river for the patient Dantro's wife was attending to, she was sure to avoid mentioning either. She still knew nothing of the feather's assumedly hidden properties both because they'd never returned to the plains for her to ask and because she had forgotten of its existence.

It was surprisingly resilient, which Penelo attributed to its hitherto unknown magickal properties. It certainly did not look as though it had been carelessly tossed into her bag along with her bedroll and the hundreds of other items that had since been stowed away with it. While not as soft as those from a chocobo, the feather was very pretty with its long, tapering end and the specks of gray and white flecked throughout the dark brown. She would probably keep it as some type of accessory if she failed to discover its use.

"Hey, Pen, where're those shells?" Vaan called out to her, jolting her from her admiration for the tuft of down in her hands.

Startled and fearing that the sight of the feather would bring back memories and tempers best left in the past, she clenched her fist around it and concealed it behind her back. It was an all-around suspicious and childish maneuver on her part, but Vaan didn't seem to notice her obvious attempt at hiding when she handed over the shells. Her childhood companion then disappeared into the hut behind Dantro's wife (yes, after all this running around to help her they had yet to learn her name), and Penelo checked that no one who would take offence to the item in her hand was nearby before brandishing it once more. That was when she heard the strangest accent grumble something unintelligible nearby.

The teen started at the voice and immediately searched for its source. The rough, irritated tones didn't belong to anyone from the village, she was sure; it was quite small and she had spoken to everyone who occupied it. Nor did anyone in her vicinity look as nettled as the grumbling had suggested. All she saw was the young boy running about with his pet wolf, as usual, the gaggle of adults and children banded about the fire pit nearby, also as usual, and then the several villagers splashing about at them embankment while Tchigiri and his father looked over the boat at the dock. There was a somewhat frazzled cockatrice hiding out back from the hut behind her which was admittedly odd. She hadn't thought that cockatrices out this far from Giza were so tame. The ones they had encountered in the Estersand on their way here sure hadn't been.

Thinking that the dread of reaching Archades coupled with exhaustion from the trek so far was getting to her, the orphan made to tuck the feather back away into her pack and relax along the small stretch of beach ahead. Before she could put her things away and make good on the decision, the voice returned, and this time the words were clear:

"I wanna see Torrie, but I ain't goin' nowhere near that bleedin' Nathyl. I ain't thick!"

This surprised Penelo again, and she sought after the voice once more. No one was so much as glancing in Nathyl's direction, however, and everyone had seemed to trust in the wolf so completely. Coming up empty and confused and beginning to fear for her sanity, she discarded the feather rather more irreverently than she had intended into the beaten up pack and made haste for the surf.

It must have just been the physical exhaustion and mental turmoil getting to her, Penelo reasoned to herself. Their quest carried on past Archades and seemed even less likely than before to ever come to a close, what with the new mix of rogue, chief scientist relations and the invisible beings that partnered with them. It all made her feel better for her own sanity that she'd yet to hear that disembodied voice since its unexpected presence in Nebra.

Balfonheim was a nice place and surprisingly respectable for a pirate hub, which, she assumed with some amusement, was somewhat of a letdown to Vaan. Even so, the news didn't damper his excitement. Nor did it keep him from accosting nigh every laborer and citizen about their lives here, what it was like, what they did, how they got here…

Penelo had just smiled and shook her head at his annoying antics; however, she feared that not everyone in the port town had her own penchant for patience. That boy was a force to be reckoned with sometimes with the impossible heaps of optimism he lugged about wherever he went. She left him be, praying that none of his targets were of the mind to gut him out in the middle of the street, mid-interrogation.

The rest of the party was out and about at the shops in preparation for whatever lied in wait in Giruvegan, but the young blonde couldn't think of anything else she really needed and so chose to wait at their agreed upon meeting place near the Cerobi Steppe's entrance. As was the case in every town she'd visited thus far, awaiting her at the outpost was the moogle-operated chocobo corral. Penelo smiled at the birds and headed in their direction.

Renting them out wasn't something the group did often due to financial circumstances, but they fascinated her all the same. Despite their enormous size, they were extremely gentle—at least the tamed, yellow ones were. She had learned the hard way about the wild chocobos' temperaments—and she wondered how such a bird could run so fast and for so long with such heavy loads on their backs.

She reached a hand cautiously though the wire fence, so as not to startle the nearest creature. It regarded her fingers with curiosity, searching above and below for any sign of treat in her grasp before giving up and tapping its beak up against her fingers in a bid for another type of attention. Penelo giggled at this show and complied with the bird's wishes. It closed its eyes and gifted her with a coo of contentment at the feel of her fingers combing through the feathers along the side of its face. She rather thought she would like to own a chocobo one day. Maybe she could talk Vaan out of his sky-pirating, airship fetish. Who knew?

"Do you think that one costs less, kupo?"

Penelo jumped slightly, startled out of her idle fantasies of chocobo ranches, green fields, and the blissful chirping of yellow baby birds, and looked down to the perplexed looking moogle who had questioned her. "Huh?"

"Kupo-po, that's a mighty funny looking chocobo, don't you think?" And with this, the Rabanastran followed the moogle's gesturing finger with her eyes, letting out a hearty snort of laughter at the sight she had somehow missed. The chocobo she'd been petting spooked at the abrupt noise, and she smiled sheepishly after it as it bounded off to the other end of the corral.

"Oh, that's not a chocobo," she supplied, still amused, to the miffed moogle. "It's a cockatrice." At this, the cockatrice paused in pecking at the ground with its fellows, and bristled its feathers as if offended. It only lasted for a second, however, before resuming its feasting. "I wonder how it got all the way out here…" She trailed off, and without an answer from either her moogle acquaintance or own thoughts, she decided to dig through her pack for a sprig of gysahl greens to offer up as an apology to her previous chocobo chum. She found them packed along with and tightly bound around the old feather she'd still not found any reason to part with. With a hefty sigh, Penelo grabbed the entire tangle of feather and greens.

And then she promptly jumped back in shock when a familiar rough accent assaulted her ears. "You 'eard me. I'm a chocobo, innit. Just 'cos a bloke's onna short side, it don't make 'im no bloomin' cockatrice!"

Eyes wide, Penelo looked around for the same disembodied voice she had encountered in Nebra, but no one new was in the area. Nor did anyone appear to be talking. Or, come to think of it, attempting to pass themselves off as a chocobo. Slowly, very slowly, Penelo turned to the pen to look at the only creature that she hadn't yet considered.

She gasped.

The knot of items fell back into her travel sack and the spell away with it. The voice disappeared mid-sentence, the words she'd seen forming on the bird's beak mere seconds ago faded to the normal clicking she had always associated with the animals. She hurried away from the pen after that to sit in the shade of the trees, ignoring the odd glances she had attracted from the few who were actually lazing about nearby while she tried to come to terms with what she had just discovered. Occasionally, she worked to pick the feather free from its floral prison. Penelo did this in small increments, carefully unraveling the stems until she could take no more of the cockatrice's ranting, then setting it back down for a few minutes before taking up the task for a few moments more.

It seemed like such a useless power, and she frowned down at the thing to show her disappointment. She didn't think she would bother mentioning it to the others, it was so lackluster. Still, it was very pretty and would make for a nice decorative something or other later. As improbable as this entire adventure continued to turn, who knew if somehow it might actually come in handy. After all, in the last several months, she had taken up arms with her dead princess and her equally dead, falsely rumored, king-slaying knight, been rescued from certain imprisonment by a young Archadian prince who shortly thereafter had sworn on bended knee to keep her from harm, and gallivanted around more world than she'd truly known even existed with a highly wanted sky pirate and his viera partner, all in an effort to free her homeland from the hands of aforementioned young prince's usurper Lord brother. It was obvious, really.

Becoming queen of the cockatrices _was_ the only next logical occurrence, after all.

.

* * *

.

It seemed like as soon as Penelo decided that nothing could ever surprise her again, something else would pop up in front of her and send her sprawling down on her backside. As was typical, their little mismatched band of varying degrees of royalty and riffraff was running low on funds. Which meant that, once more, a bar and a board had become their new best friend. This latest batch of petitioners hailed from Archades, and while this did nothing to sooth Balthier's still quite sallow demeanor, even the stewing sky pirate was able to suck it up in the name of survival. Which is how, she supposed, they had gotten to this moment, with everyone staring at her in awe and confusion at what she'd just done.

Back in Archades, she and Vaan had found themselves caught up in that accursed game of information exchange. Much as they despised it, they couldn't help themselves. They were good at it. As orphans in Rabanastre, keeping a sharp ear tuned for possible opportunities was a way of life that could be the difference between dinner or an empty stomach, for as kind and generous a soul as he was, Migelo could only do so much (and the teen honestly suspected that the bangaa went without more meals than many of the orphans around did. Gods, Penelo missed him. She hoped he wasn't fretting too much over the two of them. He could be such a mother hen at times). In any case, their skills paid off, and it wasn't long before she and Vaan had gathered enough pine chops to acquire one of sandalwood, and with it, access to the uppermost reaches of Archades. Curious (and still highly impressed by the city despite its position smack dab in the heart of enemy territory), they'd taken the polished slab of wood straight to the top of Archadian society. For a moment, the pigtailed girl had reveled in the knowledge that she and Vann, lowly Dalmascan gutter rats as they were, had been able to obtain the status with such ease. As soon as she realized it, she discarded the thought, appalled. It seemed these people were rubbing off on her, and she did not like it one bit.

Up the elevator, and with exasperated party in tow, the two orphans made their destination at last. Where, quite unexpectedly, they found the finely dressed Imperial citizens in hiding whilst two armored guards took chase to the largest cockatrice Penelo had ever layed eyes on. Larger than a chocobo even, the bird darted around the guards with incredible ease, paying no heed to their clanking cries to stop. Of the mind that no one with that much armor could possibly catch a beast so swift, her companion dashed out to help them. Penelo cried out for him to stop, and she was certain the guards would have as well had they not been so obviously weary and in desperate need of back up. True enough, the blond was faster, and with the strategies he signaled out to the guards, it seemed that the cockatrice would be corralled in no time, but by an unfortunate turn of events she had missed while digging about for her magickal feather, Vaan had gone from being the pursuer to being the pursued.

"Vaan!" she gasped in alarm, before finally managing to grip the stiff, fuzzy thing for which she'd been searching. As soon as she had it, though, the scene changed. Fear that her best friend would be ripped to shreds by a razor sharp beak instead became intense bemusement as she wondered if he would ever learn his manners.

"Oi! That ain't no way to be treatin' a lady! Rip out me tail feathers, will ya? Betta keep runnin' if ya don't fancy a peckin'!" And with that, the cockatrice came dangerously close to taking a chomping out of Vaan's backside. A click sounded from her left, smothering her giggles as soon as they'd come. Her eyes widened at the sight of Balthier loading some shot into his gun, and she started.

"No!" She shoved her pack into the startled man's arms, successfully knocking his gun askew as the unloaded shot scattered at his feet. "I've got it," she said without apology, and, crushing the feather in her fist, she raced off to her friend's rescue.

"Penelo!" It must have been Ashe who called out to her, the voice being female and Fran not prone to such breathy gasps of name, but the young blonde ignored it. In her mind she was the only person with a chance of settling this that didn't either involve death of the bird or, amusing as it had seemed mere moments ago, sending Vaan back home to Migelo's with large chunks of himself missing. That would be mean, and even his unbelievably rude and irritating self didn't deserve that.

Penelo didn't know how exactly to calm the bird down enough to stop it from taking bites at Vaan, but fortunately for her, she didn't have to. Mind panicking over what to do, she'd not paid attention to what was in front of her eyes. As a result, she'd slammed herself right into her fellow orphan and sent them both skidding across the cold, hard stone of the floor. Stunned and slightly disoriented from the unexpected blow and tumble (during future retellings she would most certainly pass it off as intentional), Penelo made sure the feather was in her grasp before struggling to disentangle herself from the mass of teenaged boy pinning her down.

"Sorry about my friend," she said, without any forethought, to the cockatrice. It just fixed the heap of humes with its beady eyes, head cocked in that universal sing of confusion. To emphasize her point, Penelo slapped down somewhere around her and was greeted with a groan from said friend as hand met skin. "He's kind of an idiot. And extremely rude."

"Hey!" came Vaan's indignant exclamation, and he, too, scrambled to untangle himself from their pile. Penelo elbowed him in the chest. He voiced his displeasure again, but took the hint and fell back to the ground. The cockatrice continued to scrutinize the pair, and Penelo fought to keep a most pleasant look on her face. This went on for several silent moments before the bird twitched.

"Go on then. Call 'em fellas off."

Penelo blinked dumbly at the request. "Huh?" That was when she noticed the guards slowly slinking their ways toward the trio. "O-Oh. A-All right," she stuttered in understanding. Even if she'd known she could, she'd never actually talked to a cockatrice before. It was more than a little disconcerting. "Stop!" She turned to the guards and waved her open palms and the feather they held to accentuate the demand. They heeded her, for whatever reason, however hesitantly it was.

"But miss—" one of the guards began, but Penelo cut him off before he could continue.

"Everything's fine. Really. She's just a little…" her voice trailed off as she took in the sight of the bird, her feathers all puffed out in agitation, her shifty stance, her hard stared. "…upset," Penelo finished. She wondered if anyone else could see that glint of appreciation in the bird's eye or if it all was a result of the feather's unlikely powers.

"Nevva met an 'ume wot could tell me feelin's b'fore," said the cockatrice, as her feathers slowly settle themselves back down against flesh. "Name's Agytha."

"O-Oh," Penelo stuttered again, still taken aback by the whole conversing with cockatrices thing she was doing. "Penelo," she offered once the moment passed.

"That so, darlin'? Well, it be a righ' pleasure. Up ya go."

Penelo's heart leapt in her chest when Agytha's head came careening down toward her own. There was the clanking of the guards behind her, but they stopped just as readily when Agytha's beak went not to peck out her eyeballs, but instead to heave the girl up by one of the wings on the back of her jumpsuit.

"Thank you," she offered weakly.

"Any time, m'girl. Say, I was in the mi'le of summink 'fore them blokes took a chasin' afta me. Wonda if ya migh' 'elp a lass out, eh?"

"I—sure. I can try."

Satisfied with the answer, the cockatrice—Agytha—jerked her feathered head to a more secluded corner set away from prying ears and trotted off in that direction. Penelo followed behind, feeling slightly dazed.

"Ya see," Agytha began once the teen had caught up to her, "I been tryin' ter make summink o' meself 'ere in Archades, an' I betta start makin' summink o' meself soon, while I still got me feathers, innit." Penelo must have shown her astonishment in her expression, because the bird's next words were, "Yeah, you 'eard me. Cockatrices can make summink o' theirselves, and I'll prove it. I'll be one o' them belly-wethers. Dunno 'ow though…" Penelo tried to think of anything helpful to say to Agytha, but came up short. Apparently she wasn't needed for this bit of conversation, though, as her feathered acquaintance took to answering her own woes without pause. "'Ang about! Wot if I was to find a proper classy fella an' get 'itched? Yeah! That oughta do it! That'd do it, no trouble! Now then…'ow'd I find a classy mate?"

The cockatrice eyed Penelo pointedly, and the girl took that as her cue to cut in. "Umm…" She wracked her memory banks, trying to come up with a suitable answer. Against all odds, something _did_ spark in the back of her mind. "You know…I did see a pretty good looking cockatrice down in Old Archades..."

Agytha perked up. "In Ol' town, yer say? Well, 'e _does_ sound classy. I bet e's a right toff, wiv blue blood an' ev'ryfink!"

"Oh. Well, I honestly don't know," Penelo cautioned. "I didn't actually talk to him."

But the bird didn't really seem to care for the facts now that she had something to cling to. "Prob'ly down in Ol' Archades 'elpin' the poor or summink," she gushed. "Ta very much, darlin'! Well, I'd betta get off an' meet this 'an'some 'unk then, 'adn't I? Ta -ra!"

And with that, Agytha barreled on over to the stairway, the guards just barely managing to dive out of the cockatrice's way. She stopped short when she reached the upper platform and turned back around. "'Ave this fer ya trouble, will ya?" Somewhere from her feathered form, Agytha extracted what looked like a one of the hand bombs Penelo had spied in a shop nearby, and she offered it to the blonde with her beak.

"I-I, " Penelo stammered.

"Don't be shy. _Take it. _Take it 'fore I change me mind."

Penelo did as she was told.

"Right, then! If yer come back when I've made summink o' meself, I'll sort ya out, awright? Make ya a senator or summink!" That said, the cockatrice bounded off with a merry laugh and disappeared off the sky cab boarding dock.

Penelo hugged the newly acquired weapon and oldly acquired feather to her chest and swallowed. She turned back around to the group, no longer all that interested in seeing what high Archades had to offer. How could she be when even the _birds_ in this blasted place were striving to get ahead and make it rich here? So distraught by the fact was the young Dalmascan, that she'd forgotten about the stunned silence and inquisitive stares cast her way.

Until one of the guards she passed by spluttered in disbelief. "You speak cockatrice?"

The teen paused, cornered, before answering, "Um. Not really," and continuing her slow trek back to her friends. When she finally reached them, she felt like the most pathetic thing in the world. "Hey, guys…can we go now? I don't really want to be here anymore."

They all eyed her strangely when she didn't wait for an answer and headed directly to the elevator. By the look of dawning comprehension on his face as she passed, she thought Balthier may have figured out the gist of what had happened upon spying the feather cradled along with the Tumulus in her arms. And even though he couldn't possibly understand her gloomy feelings that came as a result of her conversation, she at least appreciated the fact that he didn't care to stick around in Archades any more than she did. She wondered if being here in the city made him queasy, as well.

Were she ever to meet with him again, Penelo desperately hoped that Larsa would refrain from asking what she thought of his home. She suspected he wouldn't much like her answer.

.

* * *

.

_**A/N: All this because I didn't realize I could talk to cockatrices after getting the feather. Or rather, I ****thought I had gone back to Giza afterward to talk to the cockatrices but not been able to. Apparently I made that up, and I didn't come across a single one until Balfonheim where I was delightfully amused. Then I mosied my way on up to Central and was so struck by the absurdity of Agytha's presence that I immediately googled it, discovered the sidequest, and still came up with this. :/**_


End file.
